Snapping, snarling, growling, jumping, sulking or just plain sad and scared -- if this describes your dog's behavior, it may be time to send Rover on a religious retreat.

The Monks of New Skete, an Eastern Orthodox community in Cambridge, N.Y., rehabilitate dogs with issues. Their training techniques are based on getting a dog calm, centered and balanced, as well as encouraging the deep emotional and spiritual connection possible between humans and dogs. You can watch them in action on Animal Planet's "Divine Canine" series.

The monks support themselves by raising and training dogs, but their furry friends are far more than a business endeavor. Dogs are a central part of the monks' religious training and spiritual practices, as well as beloved companions that enhance the life of the religious community. Hanging out with dogs, the monks believe, can bring you closer to God and also make you a far nicer person.

Brother Christopher, 52, and head of the New Skete dog-training program, joined the monastery in 1981. I spoke with him by phone about what he's learned in his 25 years of working with (hu)man's best friend.

Why did you decide to become a monk?

I majored in international affairs in college but became more and more fascinated with religion. One of the books I read at that time was "The Seven Storey Mountain" by Thomas Merton. That book really spoke to me personally. It told a story that I could identify with, about a young man finding himself and wanting to make his life as meaningful a response to God as he could.

So you weren't always religious?

I was nominally Catholic. Church wasn't really that meaningful for me when I was younger. It was something that I was obliged to do. It wasn't until I got into college that I started asking much more serious questions, and I went through a personal conversion that helped me to see the importance of spirituality in my life.

What sort of conversion?

I was in Europe at the time -- after my freshman year in college. I was planning to go on a year abroad program to Tunisia during my sophomore year. I was right where everyone said I was supposed to be from a professional point of view. I had plenty of opportunities, I was meeting a lot of fascinating people and I was in a program where I could basically set myself up for a career in the Foreign Service. Yet inwardly I was just incredibly empty and basically unhappy.

What happened?

I think that the more I lived with that, the more it caused me to humbly say this isn't much of a life, living without any kind of meaning, without any kind of values -- personal values that are grounded in something transcendent, and so it was just a very humble prayer: "God, if you exist, I can't believe in a myth. Please meet me at this level." And it happened in just a very remarkable way, where, all of a sudden, I just realized that God reached out to me. It was something that I couldn't deny or doubt, and it left me with sort of a peace that has been a part of my life certainly ever since.

New Skete, the monastery where you now live, began training dogs not long after it opened in 1966. How did that come about?

One of the founding brothers, Brother Thomas, was responsible for a German Shepherd that he had adopted from the Seeing Eye in Morristown, N.J. It was a puppy that they could not use in the breeding program, and so he took care of it, and when New Skete was founded, the dog came with him. The dog's name was Kyr. It means "bishop" in Greek.

Brother Thomas had a real gift with dogs, and so Kyr had been pretty well trained. During the initial two years [of the monastery], Kyr was an incredibly stabilizing influence in the emotional life of the community, simply because of the way dogs are.

How do you mean?

Dogs are so full of fun, so easy to play with. They don't take themselves too seriously, and yet they are also very sensitive to human emotions. But, sadly, after about two years, Kyr died. And I think the entire community felt that loss, to the extent that they said, "We've got to get a couple more dogs." We did, and soon visitors started saying: "Oh, man, these dogs are so wonderful! Have you ever thought of breeding them?"

The brothers at that time were living pretty much hand to mouth and doing whatever they could to survive, and so Tom thought we could perhaps raise a litter or two, sell the puppies, just to supplement our income. It was at that time also that because of the positive effect that these dogs had on the community, the brothers were also thinking, "Instead of having just two community mascots, what if each brother were responsible for one dog?" And when the first litters were bred -- lo and behold! -- they found a lot of people were very interested in adopting a puppy from the monastery. So it just naturally gravitated into a very modest breeding program. Later on, the monks began training dogs as well as breeding them.

There's a saying on your Web site that a monk's spiritual teacher can know everything about a monk's inner life just by observing how the monk's dog is behaving. Can you tell me more about that?

Well, basically, dogs are guileless. They wear their emotions on their bodies. So if a dog is acting out of character, the question becomes: Did the brother speak harshly to the dog? Or did the brother's moodiness get communicated to the dog and the dog's sensitivity just simply picked that up? We live so closely with our dogs that we become very aware if a dog is not being cared for properly -- and it becomes obvious that the brother has to make some changes. If I saw, for example, a dog that was acting out of character, and I started to notice that the brother wasn't being effective with the dog -- affectionate, you know, or getting the dog enough exercise or mental stimulation -- the dog will manifest that in its day-to-day existence, and naturally, it would be my responsibility or collectively, our responsibility, to ask the brother, "Hey, what's going on here?"

So the dog is almost like a teacher ...

Absolutely. It's a mirror. That's true in any relationship, but it's particularly true with dogs because they have don't have the capacity to deceive the way that, say, we do in our business relationships. They offer a wonderful opportunity for self-knowledge if we care to listen.

Tell me about your own dog.

I care for two right now. Astro is a puppy that was born here at the monastery, and he's just coming up to two years of age. He's a delightfully playful, joyful dog and very bright, and I've done my best not to put too much pressure on him. It would be easy for me, as the trainer, to want him to be perfect. So I've tried to give him plenty of leeway.

He's just a very happy-go-lucky type of dog and very easy to have in my life. He lives with me, sleeps in my bedroom. Both my dogs do.

And your other dog?

Her name is Quanja. She came over from Germany at about 14 months of age. She is very different than Astro, although they both get along very well. She is a little bit more reserved. I have to be very careful not to be at all sharp with her, because she is sensitive. I usually handle her in a very quiet way.

How does living and working with dogs enhance your own spiritual practice?

They are creatures with their own personalities. Each one is different. And in living with them you intuitively experience something magical, something wondrous that puts you in touch with the broader mystery that's present in nature. I also think that since dogs need for us to care for them and to pay attention to them, they're constantly drawing us outside of ourselves. Having a dog is one of the best recipes against narcissism. They teach us to be far less egocentric than we would otherwise be.

I read a book once by a clergy person who said that you could make the case that some dogs seem more spiritually evolved than humans, because they exhibit certain characteristics that we all value, like unconditional love and loyalty. What do you think about that?

I don't think dogs are moral creatures in the same way that humans are. You could ask, Do dogs sin? To me, that's a meaningless question because dogs are not accountable for their moral behavior in the way that human beings are. It would be an anthropomorphic projection to assume otherwise. I would prefer to simply notice and marvel at what the dog is, within the context of its own being and reality.

It's a very beautiful thing to witness this unconditional love that's present in dogs. But at the same time, they don't come naturally like that. That's why people pull their hair out and say, "Help!" to the dog trainer. The dog has to be educated and shaped in that way. But as the dog matures and grows in its own dogness, if you will -- its own uniqueness and its own personality -- these are the traits that, when they do come out, are so remarkable and can move us to awe.

Do you think dogs have souls?

Yes, absolutely! What would heaven be like without dogs?

Is there a distinct spiritual component to the monastery's dog program? How does it differ from a more secular training, if at all?

Our work with dogs is more than just making a living. We realize it's our responsibility to bring out the best characteristics in the dogs that we breed and train. The puppies are actually ambassadors of our own values. A puppy that grows into a wonderful companion affects the lives of a family or a couple or an individual owner. That's our gift to the world.

The monks of New Skete have a TV show called "Divine Canine," where you rehabilitate dogs. What was your most challenging case?

Each one has different issues and different problems, and they all wound up to be good experiences. A miniature poodle that I worked with was a challenge, because you ordinarily expect -- the dog's name was Chico -- that miniature poodles are very, very bright, really quick and easy to train. But in this particular instance the dog was 3 years old, had never been boarded and had never been really separated from its other littermate. As a result, during the first week and a half that it was here, it experienced a very noticeable separation anxiety and behavior that was quite high-strung. And as I was working with the dog, I was saying to myself, "This is not going according to the script that usually I would have expected." It forced me to be creative within that particular situation.

What happened?

I asked myself, "How am I going to work with this dog?" Is it just simply a matter of saying, "I always train dogs this particular way"? Or do I simply have to pay attention to what's going on with this dog, and then adjust the training so that it would be sensitive to that? That's what I did, and fortunately, the dog really started to balance and even out.

Most monks never see the inside of a TV studio, I imagine. What was it like being on TV?

What I try to do is forget the Hollywood aspect of it and simply be myself. Working with the dogs helped me forget the fact that the cameras were on, because you have to really pay attention when you are working with a dog. So while I'm aware that I'm being filmed, the dog helps draw me out of myself. I just try to focus on that and it relaxes me.

Do you watch TV at the monastery?

Yeah. We have television, although we probably watch a lot less than most people. But we're certainly not cut off from the world. Most monasteries are stereotypically viewed as removed from the world, you know. That's not, I think, a good characterization -- certainly not our monastery. I think that we watch television on a very modest level. News, and if there's, let's say, a good program or a movie that has been recommended to us.

Do you ever have people who want to join the order because they are attracted to the idea of working with dogs, rather than actually having a vocation?

Early on we make it clear that this isn't some sort of dog Disneyland. I think that people, after a visit, learn very quickly that monastic life here does not focus solely on dogs.

Any thoughts on how dog owners can enrich their own spiritual practice through their dogs?

A lot of owners are looking for the least time-consuming way to get the dog trained. They want to know, for example, How many times do I have to walk him each day? How much training does he require? They should be asking, How can this enrich my life? How can I spend more time with the dog, so that I enjoy not just my life with my dog but also life in general? I would encourage dog owners to study their dogs, to become more knowledgeable about them. If they are paying attention, the dog will show them what they need to learn.

("Divine Canine," a television show featuring the Monks of New Skete, airs on Animal Planet, Saturdays at 5 p.m. PDT. You can learn more about the monks' training techniques here.)

Finding My Religion wants to hear from you. Send comments on stories and suggestions for interview subjects to miller@sfgate.com.

During his far-flung career in journalism, Bay Area writer and editor David Ian Miller has worked as a city hall reporter, personal finance writer, cable television executive and managing editor of a technology news site. His writing credits include Salon.com, Wired News and The New York Observer.